CHAP. VIIIL—MASTER GEORGE.

S Icame to Mr. Hurst’s door I heard quick

footsteps behind me, and a young gentleman,
much bigger, but not many years older than my-
self, followed me into the passage.

“What! are you coming here too?” he said.
“Why, I believe you must be Reuben; are not
you?” I was too much surprised to answer.
“ Hullo, the bird is flown!” he added, on reaching
the top of the stairs, and perceiving the sitting-
room door open.

A step in the next room told where Mr. Hurst
was, and I began—* Mr. Hurst will be here directly,
sir

 

;’ but the young gentleman silenced me with
uplifted finger, and a face overflowing with fun, as
he sprang forward and placed a queer little china
image on the table, and then glided behind the
open door.

“Don't betray me!” he said, below his breath, as
Mr. Hurst opened his bedroom door and stepped
across, He greeted me kindly, as usual.